Chained Rose
by Serria Spell23
Summary: Michaela is a lawyer sent to defend Sully from the accusation of murder: the victims his wife, Abigail and young daughter. As the two get to know each other, they realize they are much alike they both have demons. A growing attraction between them makes it important that they solve the case unscathed. Will Mike & Sully prevail or will they be discovered?
1. An Interesting Case

**Hey, here's another experiment that I came up with three years ago and never got around to posting. It's a modern day _Dr. Quinn_ where Michaela's a lawyer and has to defend Sully from a murder charge. I hope it's not too confusing and that you enjoy it. I don't the show or characters I only own the plot and any OCs. As always, read and review and tell me what you think reviews keep me updating :) ~Serria Spell23. **

* * *

**Ch.1-** _An Interesting Case_

I sat at my desk in my office at Quinn law-firm. I tapped my fingers on its wooden surface impatiently. A moment later, one of my sisters, Rebecca Quinn, leaned against the door frame of my office.

"Michaela, Father wants to see you." My eyes met hers, quickly as I tried to conceal my curiosity. Although, I was the youngest our father held me in high esteem and I waited eagerly for a chance to prove myself.

"What is it about," I asked innocently, my unique orbs sparking with a knowing glint.

Rebecca sighed tiredly, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "Why not instead of asking me you go see for yourself." I nodded, pushing my chair back and standing up. I walked out of my office towards our father's.

* * *

I knocked on his door, waiting patiently. "Come in, Mike," he called. I sat down in the chair across from him, an anxious grin gracing my features.

"You requested to speak to me, Daddy?" He chuckled at my enthusiasm.

"Well, Mike, I might have a case for you if you're interested. If you're not I understand but I believe you're ready." My expression lit up as I attempted to contain my joy. I leapt from my seat, coming around the desk to hug my father tightly.

"Oh, Thank you, Daddy!" I exclaimed, "What's the case?" I watched his eyes shifting between me and the file lying in front of him. He seemed almost nervous, attempting to distract me with trivial questions.

"Mike, dear, have you seen your mother today?"

I sighed. "No I haven't but don't change the subject, Dad."

It was my father's turn to sigh, concern etched on his face. Opening the folder, he slid it across the desk. I sat in my seat again, glancing over its contents. The photos inside were of a man in his twenties maybe a few years older than me. His hair fell in light brown waves on his shoulders, his expression was gentle and his eyes were a piercing blue. I swallowed slightly uncomfortable under his intense gaze. "Who is he, Daddy?" I asked.

"His name's Byron Sully he's been charged with murdering his wife and daughter, however the motive is unknown."

My eyes widened, revealing my shock along with my barely concealed repulsion. "And you want me to defend _him_! What's the point?"

My father rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache. "Honey, I'm not asking you to _trust_ him just listen to his story. Help prove his innocence or guilt."

I nodded not entirely feeling happy about the situation. "Should I go see him now for a head start?"

"You can if you want to, Mike it's your choice." I rose to my feet and walked toward the door. As I left, my father called out I looked back over my shoulder, "Be careful, Mike." I nodded in reply and vanished.

* * *

Byron Sully sat on the cot inside in his cell at the Colorado Springs Penitentiary. He'd recited his story more times than he could remember. He'd returned home from work to find his wife, Abigail and their daughter dead lying on the floor. He just wished for once he would get a lawyer who'd believe him.

I entered the prison, striding to the front desk. Leaning on it casually, I cleared my throat. The security guard gazed briefly in my direction, paying more attention to his magazine. "Ahem!" I said again. He met my brown orbs reluctantly as if it were a burden to listen to me.

"Yes, Miss?"

I handed him my business card and let him inspect it. "I'm here to speak to Byron Sully about his case," I explained, hoping my voice sounded confident.

The guard nearly laughed. You are representing _him!_ No offense, Miss but the case itself is rather open and shut…there's no hope."

"We'll see which way to his cell?" The man pointed directly down the hallway. I muttered a thank you as I passed the desk. I walked to my new client's cell, nervousness flooding my senses.

* * *

I stood outside the bars, silently observing him for a minute. "Excuse me?" He turned to look at me, studying me carefully with his blue eyes.

"Yes? Who might you be?" I tensed instinctively this man's gaze seemed to look right through me.

"Michaela Quinn, I'll be your defense attorney." My tone came out a bit harsher than I'd wanted it to. I averted my eyes, waiting tolerantly for him to answer. The man cleared his throat, recalling my attention.

It's nice to meet you, Miss Quinn, though I must admit you're not entirely what I expected." I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest, irritation starting to boil within me.

"What _did_ you expect?" I questioned, voice chipped. My client knew he'd hit a nerve however he remained silent. "Well?" I sighed when he refused to reply I moved on to my questions. "Mr. Sully, what did you see upon entering your house?"

The criminal rested his head in his hands, visions of the crime scene flashing behind his closed eyelids. "As I've told every other defense attorney I came home and found my wife, Abbey and our daughter lying on the floor covered in blood. I had nothing to do with their murder I'm innocent."

"Well, unless you can provide me with some evidence I'm inclined to disagree," I retorted, still sore from his comment.

"At this point I can't really do that, Miss not when the truth itself is eluding me."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Ah, then what _can_ you tell me?"

"Not much…I know that doesn't help my case."

Sighing again, I rested my hand to my forehead, frustration beginning to show in my behavior. "No, it's fine…" I glanced up into my client's eyes temporarily to indicate there were no hard feelings—failing to elaborate—my gaze returning to its former position.

The man smiled and I crossed my arms. "I've upset you, haven't I?" he asked.

"Not at all, Mr. Sully it's just this my first _big_ case and I want to do well."

"Well, you have my word, Miss Quinn that'll try and help you as much as I can."

I nodded, leaving, deciding to inform my father of my first encounter with the 'apparently guilty', Byron Sully but I would be the judge of that.


	2. Apprehensions

**Hey, here's chapter 2 sorry for the wait I got writer's block. It's a bit short but I wanted to get it up. I don't own _Dr. Quinn_ or characters I only the plot. Anyway, please read and review and tell me how it is reviews keep me updating and if you don't mind could you review my _ER_ story ****Love Me Tender** **or my crossover A Club of Redheads and tell me how they are? I would greatly appreciate it. Hope you enjoy ch.2 Thanks. ~Serria Spell23.**

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 **Ch.2-** _Apprehensions_

Returning to my father's office, closing his door. I started to pace in front of his desk, the irritation I'd bottled up while conversing with my client spilling out for my Dad to see. "Mike, what's wrong didn't your first meeting go well?"

"Yes, it went fine," I replied, "he's just so traumatized by the incident that he is experiencing selective memory loss. However, I don't know, Daddy he _seems_ like the 'perfect gentleman' my instincts are saying that he's innocent—then again there's zero evidence—it's his word against whoever accused him of the crime. Why did you give _me_ this case?"

My father smiled, rising to his feet, hugging me. "I gave it to you because you love a challenge trust your instincts, dear."

I nodded as I began to exit the office and walk toward my own. Once I had situated myself at my desk, I opened the man's file, scanning for any details I might have missed. Marjorie strode in and casually glanced over my shoulder, her eyes widening slightly in shock.

" _This_ is the case Father assigned you?" Her gaze fell the picture of my client, a smirk on her face. "Well, you certainty have all the luck, don't you? You're telling me you honestly did not realize how attractive he is? _Michaela!_ " Marjorie teased, holding it up for me to look at I shrugged coolly.

"No. I had more dire concerns on my mind, sis like clearing his name possibly."

My sister chuckled, laying the photo back on my desk. "Right…so any leads that to say has he opened up yet?"

I've only spoken to him _once_ , Marjorie…he is not an open book quite the contrary actually," I countered, rolling my eyes, "as I told Dad a few minutes ago my client is scarred from what happened and either cannot or will not inform me of the gorier details of the double murder. Relax these things take time…when did you become so impatient?"

She smirked. "I'm just looking out for you and maybe I am a bit jealous of your relationship with Father…he seems to trust you more with— how should I put this—the 'ground-breaking' cases. You and him share a bond that I don't think the rest of us will ever understand."

I nodded, embracing her quickly. "I know and thank you, sis can you let him know I went home to work?"

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

When I arrived at my house, I strode into my bedroom, the file tucked under my arm. Sitting on my bed, I spread the various head shots of Mr. Sully along with the accompanying notes—scrawled in Dad's somewhat messy handwriting—after he'd transposed the police officer's information in front of me.

Taking a pen from the nightstand, I began to add my thoughts. My writing was nothing special but it was certainly more legible than my father's. I paused, the utensil dangled above the paper as I considered the proper phrasing.

 _My client refuses to divulge any details though he gives off a trustworthy air…_ My pen scratched the sentence out lightly. Returning to the note, I shook my head, adding something at the end. _For now, don't be fooled._ The phone rang and sticking the pen behind my ear I grabbed it.

* * *

"Hello?" I muttered my voice semi-drowsy, fixing my hair—styled into a high bun—by pushing the flyaway strands back into it, I composed myself—the momentary disturbance of the peace leaving me startled.

"Long time no see, Michaela, how have things been?"

The name of the speaker evaded my memory, rubbing my hand subconsciously I attempted to recall it. After a minute, I realized who was on the other line. "David, what do you want?"

"Merely to check up my _favorite_ ex-fiancé. And to say I am formally transferring myself onto your case."

"Firstly David, go to hell! Secondly, did my mother put you up to this?" I growled.

"Of course not, my dear I'm intrigued. I'm keeping an eye on you."

"A polite way of saying you're intruding on my case!"

My ex smirked. "Oh I'd never I just have to make sure you don't end up running off with your client."

"I won't…what the hell that's uncalled for…you have no right to make such a blatant accusation!"

"Of course, Michaela, well I'll leave you to stir in that revelation goodbye."

* * *

I sighed, hitting the 'off' button, returning to my notes. It was quiet for a few minutes until the phone rang again. Gritting my teeth against the annoyance in my veins, I answered. "Yes?"

"Hello, Miss Quinn," said my client, "how are you?"

My voice lost some of its edge momentarily. "Mr. Sully, what do you want?"

"I think I may have remembered something?"

My eyebrow arched quizzically as I attempted to contain my sarcasm. "I only left two hours ago how could you have recalled something in such a short time?!"

"It was one of the townspeople not me…are you alright?" His question threw me for a loop. I wasn't used to a person being _this_ forward—not to mention intuitive with me—people typically tended to stay away from me and not engage because I had a habit of disregarding the rules.

"Fine, I just have a lot on my mind…my ex-fiancé called me and he's a bit of a jerk…why am I telling _you_ this? Look, is there anything else you needed I'm drained after today."

"No," the man mumbled, "don't work too hard on my account, Miss Quinn, I am just thankful you— _someone—_ is finally listening to me. Thank you."

"Of course, goodbye."

Goodnight, Miss Quinn, sleep well."

I hung up the phone, feeling a noticeable blush spread throughout my complexion. Yes, it would be an interesting case indeed.


End file.
